by B. T. Wright
Damnit. She gritted her teeth and took a step back, nearing the wall.
Sweat broke from her hairline on their approach. She scavenged the floor for something, anything to use as a weapon, but there was nothing. Only scraps of paper and tiny shards of glass from broken computer screens. Hardly things she could use to protect herself.
“Wait! Wait!” She held her hands out to deflect their advance. “Please, no, I beg you.” She could feel tears stemming from deep inside, knowing this would likely be her end, but she stuffed them back down. She wouldn’t let them see her cry or give them the satisfaction.
She flexed her fists and tightened her forearms, getting ready for a fight, because she wasn’t going down without one.
4
As he entered the hangar, Colt looked up into the two-story space. He didn’t notice both Colonel Jenkins and Bald force a brace of wood crates behind the door in case the group of infected decided they wanted to make their way inside.
Long and skinny windows spanned the entire length of both sides of the building near the ceiling. At the early morning hour, the sun sliced through the glass and lit up the inside like a lightning bug in the dark.
When he lowered his gaze, he noticed three helicopters. From his position by the door, they looked functional. No visible damage on any.
“Jackpot,” Colonel Jenkins said as he moved beyond Colt and looked over the first one in line.
Colt stepped toward his boys. They were standing next to the vice president and Bald, who was checking the area for any sign of intrusion. It seemed to Colt like the hangar hadn’t been touched by anyone, not in a while. But why? Sure, the hangar was out of the way and in the middle of a grove of trees—maybe kept secret from only those in the know, but still . . . the infected must have been aware of its existence.
Colt didn’t have the time to think on that now, instead he turned his attention to the vice president. His stare was empty and meaningless, as if he was lost in thought but thinking of nothing.
“Mr. Vice President,” Colt said.
There was no answer.
Before Colt spoke to the vice president again, he shifted his attention to Dylan. “Take your brother over to that helicopter. But stay out of Colonel Jenkins’ way and keep Wesley close to you. I need to speak to the vice president alone.”
Colt watched as Dylan led his younger brother away. Once they were out of earshot, Colt stepped in front of the vice president.
“Sir?” Colt centered himself in the vice president’s view.
After noticing, Colt the vice president said, “Call me Hank.”
Shocked, Colt stalled. His father had always taught him respect, and he felt strange calling the vice president by his first name. “Sir, I—”
“Please.” He held up his hand. “I insist. It’s just Hank.”
“Okay, Hank.” His name felt weird to say. “Can I speak freely?”
“By all means.”
“Okay, I don’t know how to say this, but . . . why have you given up hope?”
“I haven’t.”
“But what you said outside.” Out of instinct, Colt looked to the shut garage door.
A breath of air left the vice president’s lungs. Then he said, “Not only was Mark an excellent chief of staff, but he was also my friend. Now he’s dead. I assume we all will be soon.”
Colt moved his finger to his mouth as his eyes danced around the room in search of his sons to make sure they weren’t hearing the doubt in his voice.
“Look, I’m not trying to be bleak, but we have to be honest. What’s the likelihood of us getting out of this hangar alive? Maybe five percent? Less?”
“Sure, but still. There is a chance.”
“I get it, you have something to fight for. Your sons. Your wife back at Cheyenne Mountain, but I’ve got nothing. No family left.”
“What about the president?”
The vice president sucked in air and nodded. “Sure, John’s a friend as well, but he’s still got something to hold onto. His wife is still alive. By his side. A warm body to hold at night. What have I got? Nothing.”
Colt wondered why the vice president was dumping all this information on him. He didn’t know him well. They’d met only hours prior.
“That’s not true, sir, you’ve got us,” Colt said.
“I appreciate that, son, really I do. But you’ve seen what these things can do. They’ll stop at nothing to kill us.”
“Not true. They just stopped outside.” Colt added lightheartedness to the deep conversation.
The vice president waited, then said. “And that doesn’t scare you even more?”
Colt gulped. Truly it did. The group of infected shouldn’t have stopped. No hunter hunting their prey would have. What happened was outside the realm of understanding.
Before Colt could answer, Colonel Jenkins spoke. “Guys, get over here. I think I can get her working.”
Giddiness overcame Colt in that moment. He spun away from the vice president and jogged toward Colonel Jenkins. He didn’t notice the vice president smirk and follow behind, but in a slow stroll.
Colonel Jenkins was sitting in the cockpit. “So, I take back what I said.”
Thrown, Colt lowered his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I said, I think I can get her in the air. Let me rephrase, I know I can.”
“Really, you think you can? That’s amazing,” Colt said.
“But here’s the rub,” Colonel Jenkins started, then looked to his left. “We need to roll the chopper outside, through those doors.” He pointed behind Colt at the garage doors.
Colt spun, then lowered his head. As soon as they opened the doors, the infected would be waiting for them.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Colt said. “You know they’re out there, still waiting for us? How can we possibly roll this outside?”
“It’s the only way,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“Like I said, son, five percent,” the vice president added.
“Can’t we just lift off in here, and crash through the door?” Dylan said.
Colonel Jenkins belly-laughed. “Hooya! I like your enthusiasm kid. But no, can’t do that.”
“I think I may have found a way out of here,” Bald’s voice dropped from the catwalk on the second story.
“Where?” Colonel Jenkins was the first to say.
“The tree line to the northwest. I see an opening.”
Wesley whimpered. “You mean we have to go outside?”
Colt moved near his son and pulled him close.
“You really think we can outrun that horde of infected?” Colonel Jenkins said.
“Don’t know, sir. Can’t be certain, but I don’t see any infected north of here, or to the west.”
Colt looked back to the closed doors, knowing what lay beyond. Just as he was about to speak again and acknowledge the threat—as if any of them could forget the infected were out there—there was a shriek. Loud enough for all to hear. Everyone sat in silence. Waiting for something to happen. As if the infected were going to beat down the door they entered, or maybe climb to the second story and pound through the glass. But that didn’t happen. Instead, the infected had something else in mind, something far more sinister.
“You smell that?” Colt said and looked to each man.
Colonel Jenkins eyes bulged, as did the vice president’s.
“Smoke,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“And where there’s smoke . . .” Colt stopped.
The vice president filled in the rest. “There’s fire.”
5
“That’s what they did,” Colonel Jenkins said. “The bastards lured us inside.”
Colt gritted his teeth and shook his head. “How? You mean, you think they planned this? Forced us inside to what, set us on fire?” Colt wasn’t convinced. Even after everything he’d seen, there was no way they’d evolved this much. This was beyond comprehension. Cold-blooded, even for them.
Climbing down th
e ladder that led to the second level, Bald overheard Colt and Colonel Jenkins talking. He added his own interpretation. “Maybe they didn’t know they would set us on fire, but they did know we were headed into a building with no exit. Once we took the bait, all they had to do was strike a match.”
“But where did they get the match?” the vice president said.
No one answered the vice president’s thought. Dylan spoke instead, “Am I the only one who thinks we need to get the hell out of here as fast as we can?” Leave it to the thirteen-year-old to impart wisdom. “Like now!”
He was right. Colt knew they should’ve been more concerned with finding an exit, but for some reason they felt the need to argue first. Typical macho men and their ego driven theories.
“The kid’s right,” Colonel Jenkins said. “Bald, do you really think we can make that path to the northwest?”
“Don’t know for sure, but right now, I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Bald said.
“But how do we get outside and the past the mob?” Colt said.
Bald nodded upward. “Second level. There’s a catwalk on the backside of the building. I’m sure it leads to a ladder. If we’re lucky, maybe we can get down without them seeing us.”
The vice president chuckled. “You really think that will work? These things aren’t as dim as you make them out to be. They just trapped us in here and set it on fire. It seems we’re the idiots.”
“Look, we didn’t have a choice,” Colonel Jenkins said. “We either entered the hangar or stayed out there with them.”
“What if we cause a diversion?” Dylan suggested.
All looked to him. “That’s precisely what I was going to suggest,” Colonel Jenkins said.
Colt grinned at his boy and winked. Dylan dropped his head, not embarrassed, but proud he was on the same page with the colonel.
“What’s a diversion?” Wesley asked.
Bald and Colonel Jenkins laughed, and Colt went to his son’s side and bent down to his level to explain. “See, buddy, it’s . . . well, it’s kind of like—”
“—bait,” the vice president interjected.
Colt spun to catch the vice president’s eye. “For lack of a better word, yeah.” He returned and caught Wesley’s eye. “Bait.”
“You mean, like in fishing?” Wesley said.
Colt grinned, chuckled, then said, “Yeah, buddy, kinda.”
“But in fishing, the bait gets eaten,” Wesley said.
His words were simple, but the effect was profound. Colt’s grin vanished, and the fear sucked the men’s breath from their lungs.
“He’s right,” the vice president said. “That’s why it must be me. I’ll make a run for it.”
“Sir, no! Absolutely not!” Colonel Jenkins said. “I won’t allow it.”
“You don’t have a choice.” The vice president was quick with a comeback.
“With all due respect, sir, I cannot let you go. We’ll draw straws. Something else—anything else,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“Draw straws?” The vice president laughed. “Please. Don’t waste your time. It must be me.”
“But why, sir? Why does it have to be you?” Now it was Colt who spoke up.
“Because you have your boys to look after. You need to be here to protect them. And you.” He nodded to Colonel Jenkins. “You’re the only one who knows how to fly them out of this place. And Bald is the only one who knows how to get back to the Academy. So, you see, I must do this. It must be me.”
Silence hung in the air until Colonel Jenkins spoke again. “It’s suicide, sir!”
The vice president’s face fell. “It is. That much I know. But like I told Colt, I’ve accepted the fact that I’m going to die. I’m not afraid. I’ve got nothing left to live for. Let me do this. Let me save you. All of you.”
A lump of spit sat in Colt’s throat as it tightened. He wanted to speak up, to tell the vice president he was a fool, but his thought process was spot on.
“What about the president, sir?” Bald asked.
The vice president eyed him and scrunched his brow.
“What do we tell him, sir? When he asks about you?”
“He will. And when he does, tell him the pawn sacrificed himself for the king.”
Chess terminology Colt understood, but not his boys. They looked bewildered in that moment as Colt eyed them both. Wesley had tears in his eyes, and Dylan’s eyes were wide in astonishment.
“But why would the infected follow only you, sir? They know all of us entered.” Bald words were direct.
“He’s right, sir,” Colonel Jenkins added.
Colt had an idea but needed reassurance first. He stepped to the side of the chopper, the one Colonel Jenkins was in when he called them over in the first place. He walked to the guns that were mounted on the side and rubbed his hand over the steel. “Do these things work?”
Colonel Jenkins spun around and saw Colt standing beside the guns. “Yeah, absolutely.”
“And the garage doors? Can they be lifted?”
“By chains, yeah,” Bald said.
“What if we forgo the dramatics of the vice president sacrificing himself for us, and stay and fight?”
“Hooya, Maddox. My kind of man,” Bald said.
“But the guns are mounted in a fixed position. Once the infected figure out we can only fire straight ahead, they will flank our position and take us out from the sides,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“What about this?” Dylan slid a tarp off a wooden crate lying next to the helicopter.
“What’s that?” Colt said and walked toward his son.
On the side of the crate there was a number. A code. HM34-09. “Bald, any idea what this code is?” Colt looked to him as he walked over.
“HM34-09,” he muttered under his breath.
Colt watched as his eyes got big.
“That’s an RPG.”
“What’s that mean?” Dylan said.
“A grenade launcher.” Bald looked up and grinned.
“I think that will work,” Colt said. “Quick, Dylan, Wesley, help Bald find something to pry the ends up with.”
Colt walked over to the vice president, who could only walk toward the high garage door. He was alone with himself, maybe thinking of doing something stupid.
“Sir,” Colt said.
The vice president turned and looked at him. “What’s on your mind?”
“What’s on my mind?” Colt was thrown by the question, especially in the current state of things. “You, sir, and your demeanor.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my demeanor. I knew exactly what I was saying. I hold true to my words. I still think my way would’ve worked.”
“It wouldn’t have, sir. Bald was right. The infected would’ve seen through our plan. They likely would’ve allowed you to run free, only to track us down and kill us. Then they’d find you alone and finish what they started.”
Colt’s words were on par, but still, the vice president didn’t agree. “I just hope this plan works and no one else gets killed. Just think about your boys in the midst of all this war. They could’ve been spared from the violence. It’s not necessary.”
“With respect, sir, my sons have seen things no child should see. They’ve seen their mother attack them and their father. They’ve seen the infected do things, unspeakable things. Sure, this may be more violence, but they’ve seen it before. I’ve prepared them as much as I can. And for them to survive . . . things have to happen.”
“Tell yourself what you will, but no man can endure the hardships of war and come out without scars. And the scars I’m talking about aren’t visible. But these events, if you, and they, survive, will haunt you for the rest of your lives.”
Colt swallowed the vice president’s words like a bitter pill. He knew the vice president was right. But the plan should work. It would work. It had to. For his sons. For Anna. Hell, for all of humanity if they ever reached Jake in time.
Smoke began to bi
llow from underneath the garage doors, and Colt and the vice president stepped back into the hangar.
“You boys ready for a fight?” Bald asked.
Colt turned to see him mount the RPG over his right shoulder. Dylan stood by his side, holding another grenade round ready to reload. Dylan’s gaze was stern. His teeth were clenched as he stared at the garage door, waiting for it to open. There wasn’t an ounce of fear lingering in his eye. He was ready for battle.
But the look on his son’s face stopped Colt dead in his tracks. Three days ago, Dylan was a self-absorbed teenager with the propensity to linger on his cell phone too long. Now, when Colt looked at him, he saw bloodlust in his eyes, and that look caused an immediate reaction to the vice presidents’ response. Colt brought his hand to his mouth and thought, Dear God, what have I done?
6
After seeing the look in Dylan’s eye, Colt needed to lead Wesley away from the fight for his own protection. He directed him to the nearest office—a rectangular offshoot inside the hangar against the western wall. Inside the room was a small desk and a stack of papers overflowing from an unread bin. Colt took Wesley by the hand and guided him under the desk.
“Stay here and stay out of sight.” Colt needed to protect him.
“Daddy, I’m scared.” Wesley pulled his knees into his chest and rested his chin on his kneecaps.
“I know you are, buddy. And it’s okay to be scared.”
“But what if you never come back? What if those . . . those monsters get you?”
Colt knew that was a possibility. “Nobody can get to your old man.” Colt forced a smile.
But Wesley didn’t return the gesture. His eyes remained low, staring to the ground.
“Just close your eyes, buddy. And if you need to, cover your ears too. I’ll be back soon.”
Just as Colt stood, Wesley reached for him and clutched his waist.
Colt unraveled his arms and looked out the window of the office. Colonel Jenkins was begging him to hurry with his eyes. “I need to go now, bud. Just stay down and out of sight and don’t make a sound. I will be back for you, I promise.”